


(untitled salty gentlemen commentfic)

by i_claudia



Series: Check/Mate [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-12
Updated: 2011-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_claudia/pseuds/i_claudia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For inspiredlife's prompt: <i>singing and comfort</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(untitled salty gentlemen commentfic)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for inspiredlife and originally posted on LJ [here](http://i-claudia.livejournal.com/65643.html?thread=1618027#t1618027). (12 January 2011)

The first thing Merlin heard upon being admitted into the elegantly appointed room—by a servant who gives him a look which clearly and silently demonstrated the opinion this house had on shabby post-captains who showed up on their doorstep without a formal engagement—was a man singing. He was necessarily used to men’s voices, accustomed to the scrape and lilt of the Kilgharrahs as they heaved on ropes and pushed the holystones over the decks, tuneless and yet somehow pleasant all the same, stretching out over the ship until they faded over the blue water beneath. This man was immediately, immeasurably different, his sweet baritone underlaid not with labour or longing, but with the simple purity of joy, the splendour of the notes themselves with hardly a thought for the words or audience.

The singing stopped, abruptly, but Merlin scarcely had a moment to mourn its loss as Arthur was there in the room with him, smiling as widely as convention would allow him, barely waiting until the servants had retreated before sweeping Merlin into a devastating embrace. 

“Do you know,” Arthur murmured, so close to Merlin’s ear that his lips brushed against Merlin’s skin, “do you have any idea how terrible it has been without you, how terrible it was to wait for every tomorrow not knowing what the papers would say, while you were playing old Harry with the shipping up and down the coast?”

Merlin locked his fingers into the back of Arthur’s shirt to prevent himself from doing anything unspeakably foolish. Arthur was dressed for private, had none of the trappings of his station about his person. He wore a simple white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, dark trousers worn lighter and thinner with time and carelessness, and nothing on his feet; he smelled faintly of horses, as if he had perhaps spent the morning in the stables Merlin knew he kept. It was, Merlin thought, an unconscionable situation, and he was hardly to blame for taking full advantage of the moment—it had, after all, been six months since he had last set foot in Dover. 

The kiss moved quickly past all bounds of propriety—Arthur was _moaning_ , groaning already into Merlin’s mouth, his mouth lush and slick against Merlin’s own—Merlin himself was sliding a hand beneath Arthur’s shirt, desperate to touch his skin, to feel the shift of muscles over bone, to feel _Arthur_ , here at last—he thought, distracted, that they had to stop, one of them had to step back, stop this before—

“No one will come in,” Arthur said, anticipating Merlin’s thoughts before he spoke. “The door locks.”

“The risk—”

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was low, demanding, just a hint of a plea below the gruffness of it, and all of Merlin’s resistance vanished, insubstantial.


End file.
